Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Brielle stepped into the elevator. She couldn't feel any physical pain, only a sharp, unbearable agony radiating from her heart.

She even considered bending over to ease the pain clutching at her chest, but no matter what she did, she felt utterly powerless.

Her mind was a mess, and her legs felt as if they were filled with lead, each step a monumental effort.

She walked out numbly, and it wasn't until she reached the lobby that she pulled out her smartphone to call Patrick.

Patrick was in the midst of reaching out to Mark's relatives when he saw Brielle's incoming call. He hesitated to answer, knowing Max had said to keep this matter from Ms. Brielle for the time being.

Mark's ex-wife, the one who had left him a long time ago, was unreachable. No one knew where she had gone. So, Mark's body had been cremated in the meantime, but now there was no one to claim the ashes, leaving them temporarily stored at the hospital. When Patrick didn't answer, Brielle sent him a text message instead. [Mark has no other relatives. I'll take care of his funeral arrangements.]

Patrick's heart skipped a beat. Did Ms. Brielle find out?

He quickly called Max.

Max stood silently in the nursing home hallway upon hearing the news. After a long pause, his voice hoarse, he said, "Let her do it."

Reluctantly, Patrick sent Brielle the address of where Mark's ashes were being kept.

Brielle contacted the staff at West Hill Cemetery, intending to purchase a gravesite there.

When she mentioned it was for Mark, they informed her, "Mark's plot has been purchased long ago. He bought it himself over a decade ago. Additionally, he bought a small plot for a child from the orphanage who perished in a fire. He wanted his resting place to be next to the little one's, perhaps to continue looking after the child in the afterlife."

Hearing this, Brielle felt a sting in her nose. She wanted to say something, but it was as if her voice had been stripped away.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

She made arrangements with the cemetery for the burial the next day.

Mark had no close family, and Brielle

hadn't notified anyone. She spent the night near the place where Mark's ashes were stored and took the urn to West Hill Cemetery the next day.

As the urn was buried, Brielle stood numbly by until her gaze landed on the small smiling face on the nearby headstone. It was like a sharp bayonet thrust into her heart

She couldn't bear to look at that smile because she was the reason the Fox family had all been sent to prison. The Fox family's daughter had died in a fire trying to save her.

It was all Brielle's fault. If she allowed James to continue suffering in prison, she would probably start having nightmares from tonight on.

Maybe Martha was right. Everyone who crossed Brielle's path was cursed.

The grave was ready, and the staff had left.

Brielle stood alone in the midst of a spring where everything was supposed to be coming to life, yet her heart felt as barren as winter, riddled with a thousand wounds. Who could she blame for Mark's death?

Max, the Dorsey family, or even Martha?

She tried to smile, but it felt like pulling on countless invisible wounds, and tears followed.

The previous night's spring rain had persisted into a drizzle. She didn't have an umbrella, and her clothes were soaked through.

She bowed deeply to Mark's headstone, then moved to the small neighboring grave, kneeling to clear away the weeds carefully.

When she was done, her palms were raw and bloody from the sharp stones, but she felt no pain, only an endless chill corroding her heart. Was there any point in continuing her relationship with Max? Perhaps he would be the next to be ruined because of her.

She was truly exhausted. This was her first love, yet it felt overwhelmingly weary.

The mistake was hers, an orphan with no parents, foolishly yearning for warmth, reaching for the stars. She had been too greedy.